


Come With Me (And Back to Who You Used to Be)

by flipflop_diva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Porn, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Natasha Feels, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve missed Natasha. As a friend, as a confidant, as a partner. He was tired of watching her pretend to hold it together, tired of watching her be a shadow of who he knew she was. It wasn’t her, and the guy who didn’t care and just let her be night after night wasn’t him.</p>
<p>Set immediately post-Age of Ultron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come With Me (And Back to Who You Used to Be)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tower Party Lightning Smut Round and based on the prompt _come with me now_. I apologize for all the angsty plot before the smut. It took a while to get there, but it's there!

She was already halfway back to the bunker before he managed to catch up to her, her head down, eyes staring at her tablet as she walked, letting people jump out of her way and not the other way around.

“Natasha!” He reached for her arm but thought better of it at the last moment and just settled for falling into step beside her. She glanced over and frowned.

“I thought we were done with training.”

“We are done with training. I want you to come with me.”

Her brows furrowed. “I’m not really in the mood.”

“That’s why I want you to come with me.”

“Rogers …” The edge to her voice told him she wasn’t kidding, but he was ready for this fight. More than ready. He was tired of watching her pretend to hold it together, tired of watching her be a shadow of who he knew she was. It wasn’t her, and the guy who didn’t care and just let her be night after night wasn’t him.

(“You going to sit here and just let her mope, or are you gonna man up and go get your girl?” Sam had asked him just last night. He hadn’t justified that with a response, but the words had gnawed away at him all day. Even if things between them could never be what he maybe wanted them to be, she _was_ his friend, and he missed her, and friends didn’t let friends wallow forever. At least that was what he was telling himself.)

“What?” he said back to her, ready to risk her biting his head off or maybe shoving him into a wall. “You have a hot date I don’t know about?”

Something flashed in her eyes, and Steve felt an instant wave of guilt. Almost enough to make him regret his words, but there was no backing down. He stood straight and met her eyes as though he hadn’t realized what he said, waiting for her to answer.

“No,” she said softly, finally. “You know I don’t.”

“Then come with me now. I promise if you’re miserable in an hour, I’ll let you leave.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, so he grinned at her, the way he used to when she was still sneaking into his apartment during the night and the Avengers were only a thing that had happened once, not a way of daily life. 

“I’ll even let you pick the movie,” he said. “Any cheesy rom-com you want and I promise not to tease you about your horrible taste.”

Her lip quirked up at that. Not exactly a smile but closer to a real one than he had seen in awhile. “Is there going to be popcorn?”

“There might even be dinner if you ask nicely.”

She cocked her head like she was thinking about it, but he knew he had her. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

•••

She was curled against his side, her body a warm, comforting weight against him. His arm was draped around her, and the top of her hair tickled the underside of his chin just slightly. When he glanced down at her — which was a lot. He was watching her more than the movie — he could see her eyelids fluttering as she struggled to stay awake.

“I’ve missed this,” he said softly, more to himself than to her, but he felt her shake just slightly as a laugh escaped her mouth.

“What?” she said, the word cut off slightly as she yawned. “Me falling asleep on you when we watch movies?”

He was temped to answer with the truth — “I’ve missed you” — but he knew she knew that already. Instead, he ran a hand up and down her arm for a few moments until speaking again.

“I’m sorry about Bruce.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Instantly there was air in the space she had just filled. She clambered backward on the couch, putting as much distance between them as possible, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

“Don’t,” she said.

He held up his hands, palms out, trying to show her he didn’t want to fight.

“I’m not going to ask you to talk about it,” he said gently, like he would if he were trying to coax a cat out of hiding. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. I know you really liked him. Loved him maybe. And I know it’s been hard for you since he left.”

“Steve …” That warning note was back, but he plunged ahead anyway. The worst she could do was leave, and part of him felt like he had lost her weeks ago.

“You deserve to be happy.”

She made a sound at that. A scoff.

“You do,” he insisted, and this time she laughed, a sad, bitter sound.

“Only you would think that.”

“Natasha …”

“Can we just go back to the movie?”

He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with her. Not when just holding her had felt so nice.

He lifted his arm, offering her an invitation. He watched as she sucked in a mouthful of air, then scooted back toward him, retaking her place against his side. He waited until she had re-laid her head against his chest before once more wrapping his arm around her. 

“I have missed this,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer for almost an hour, but when she did, she sounded almost sad. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’ve missed this too.”

•••

It was easier after that first night. Things didn’t go completely back to how they used to be, but it was closer. They had dinner together, they watched movies together, she sparred with him just because she wanted to and not because they were planning the best way to train the team. Sometimes he still caught her with a sad expression on her face or a faraway look in her eyes, and when those moments happened, all he could do was try to pretend he didn’t notice that she still thought about him, try to ignore the small part inside him that almost hoped he didn’t come back and take her away from him. 

“Bruce is an idiot,” he said one night. They were sitting together on the couch, watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people about not knowing how to cook and Natasha was insisting she could win this whole competition. (“You can barely boil water,” he had just said to her, and she had smacked him as she laughed, an almost melodic sound that wrapped around his heart and made it hard to breathe.) 

It had been two months since they had defeated Ultron, two months of no word and no information from the man in question, but two months was not long enough as he immediately felt her stiffen beside him.

“Stop,” she said, and she wasn’t teasing anymore, but he reached over and squeezed her hand. He hadn’t realized until just now how angry he was at the other man, but he was. It was a knot of rage that had been burning inside him since he left, and now it was coming loose. 

“No,” Steve said. “He is. And yes, I know he has a lot to deal with and a lot of demons the rest of us don’t have and I know he did what he thought he needed to do and as a teammate I support that — but he is an idiot.”

“Steve …”

“Because he left you. You are the best thing that could happen to anyone, and he walked away from that. He’s an idiot.”

He stopped, panting slightly, the anger leaving almost as quickly as it had come. Beside him, Natasha was as frozen as a statue. He couldn’t even hear her breathe, and he couldn’t bring himself to look over at her, to see the disappointment or hurt in her eyes at his words (or worse, to see her mask slam down, to see her emotions disappear as her walls went back up).

He made a move to pull away, before she could, but a hand stopped him, fingernails digging into the flesh of his wrist.

“I’m not going to apologize,” he said, finally turning his head to face her. She was watching him, eyes wide, her expression unreadable. “I’m not,” he said again meekly when she still didn’t say anything. 

She moved then, before he could react, a pair of soft lips pressing against his, stealing all the oxygen in his lungs.

She drew back as he stuttered, gasped, stared at her like he didn’t know who she was. Her face was as unreadable as it had been a few seconds before, but now her head was tilted as she studied him, watching his reaction.

Finally he found words. “Is that how you kill people now?”

She lifted a finger and placed it against his lips. Her expression didn’t alter. “That is the nicest — if not most untrue — thing anyone has ever said to me who wasn’t trying to get me into bed,” she said. Her voice was teasing as she spoke, but he had a feeling she was being honest, and he felt a familiar surge of pain around his heart that he always felt during the rare times she opened up and let him in.

If only she could see how amazing she was …

“Who says I’m not?” he teased her back, and there it was. That smile, the one that lit up her face and made her eyes twinkle.

“Well, then congratulations, because it worked.” She leaned forward again, replacing her finger with her lips, the pressure harder this time, more intense.

Steve struggled to control a groan. God, she was beautiful, but …

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back, not far but enough to put distance between them. “Natasha, don’t.”

She blinked at him, now flirty seductress and innocent vixen all mixed into one. “Don’t what?”

He frowned at her. “Don’t do this. And don’t play me.”

Her coy smile faded away. She huffed. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“That was …” That was what? A mistake? A one-time thing? A moment he replayed in his head far too much? “That was a long time ago.”

She sank back on to the couch. He realized her hand was still wrapped around his wrist, but he couldn’t bring himself to remove it. She pursed her lips, like she was thinking. Finally, she shifted her eyes to the side, away from him.

“What if I tell you that I want this? And not because Bruce left but because you’re here. Because you’re you. What if I tell you that?”

Steve sighed. “We’re leading a team now, Nat. We can’t …”

“It won’t change anything.”

“It won’t change anything _for you_ ,” he countered. “I can’t make that kind of promise.”

“What if I tell you I’m okay with that?”

“What if I tell you I’m not? I don’t want to lose you. Lose this.” He waved his hand around, indicating him, her, _them_. “I don’t want to go back to how things were before.”

“What if I tell you they won’t?” She smiled at him, and then she was on her knees on the couch, crawling the short distance toward him. She reached out, took his face between her hands. “What if I tell you I want you?” she whispered.

Steve growled. Literally growled. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to do this, but if they did, if things changed …

She stroked a hand down his cheek, along his jaw, then bent to kiss him again. “I can hear you thinking,” she said. “Stop.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. She pulled back, just far enough for him to see her, to see into her eyes. To see, for once, the emotions dancing around in them. The trust, the respect, the desire. 

He knew she could be playing him, knew that better than anyone, but the way she was looking at him, the way she was touching him, the sincerity in her voice …

He couldn’t fight it. He couldn’t fight her. Not anymore. She was right. He wanted her. He had for a long time. And she was offering him that chance. He would be stupid if he said no.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, as if to prove to himself that she was real, and met her lips with his, forcefully and intensely. She gasped into his mouth, but then she was reciprocating, both of their movements hard and rough, like they had waited too long for this moment. 

She pushed her tongue into his mouth, and he bit down on her lip, earning a moan. He felt her hands drop to his shoulders and squeeze, and he couldn’t wait any longer. 

He pushed her backward, guiding her until she was lying beneath him on the couch. He pulled his mouth away from hers, just for a second, so he could see her, flushed and already slightly panting, lips swollen and eyes dark. 

He reached up a hand and stroked his fingers through her short red curls. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, and then before she could reply, he was kissing his way down the line of her jaw, down her throat, behind her ear. His hand trailed down her body, found the hem of her tank top and slid under it, feeling the warm expanse of skin.

He felt her shiver, and her hands trailed up his shoulders to grasp at his hair. He slid her shirt up and off, and her bra followed mere seconds after. She beamed at him in the moment before he lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth, and he felt for an instant like the luckiest guy in the world to be here, with her. 

He palmed her breasts with his hands while he sucked on her nipple, bringing it to a hard peak in his mouth. She shuddered when he bit down softly, and the soft whimper she made went straight to his groin. 

He needed more, and he needed it now. 

He slid down her body, earning a grumble of protest when he left her breasts, but then he was pulling her yoga pants and her panties down her legs and using his strong hands to spread her thighs, and then there she was, open and exposed just for him, already glistening and trembling before he even touched her.

Her scent was almost overpowering, heady and intoxicating and just as he remembered. 

He forced himself to go slow, to take his time, to make her feel it, every stroke of his fingers and every flick of his tongue. He started with just his fingers, rubbing gently up and down her slit, spreading her arousal and feeling her grow wetter beneath his touch. Her fingers were now clenched in his hair and soon enough she was tugging on him, muttering at him to “hurry up” and “get on with it, Rogers.”

He pulled back, stopping his work altogether as she groaned in protest and tried to buck her hips up against him, but he was stronger than her and an arm across her pelvis held her in place.

“Patience, Nat,” he teased her, and he was pretty sure it was only the fact that at that moment his thumb found her clit that stopped her from killing him. Instead she moaned, a sound that ran through his body and sent all his blood rushing south. 

He dropped his head, replacing his thumb with his teeth, nibbling softly as he finally gave her what she wanted, dipping one finger, then a second, deep inside her. She made a sort of mewling sound as her fingers dug into his scalp, drawing blood he was pretty sure, but he didn’t mind a bit. He sucked on her clit like his life depended on it, and sped up the thrusts of his fingers, angling his hand to hit her deeper and harder at every turn, until her breath was coming in shallow gasps mixed with soft cries and her head was thrown back against the cushions of the couch.

He shifted his position to open her up that much wider and murmured “come for me, Nat” against her folds, and that, combined with a third finger, was all it took. She cried out beneath him as her body trembled, her muscles clamping down, and he had to remind himself to keep moving as he watched how beautiful she looked when she came undone.

He didn’t stop his ministrations, even when her orgasm had long passed, wanting nothing more than to build her back up again, but her hand on his wrist stopped his actions. 

“Inside,” she gasped. “Steve. Please.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. His clothes were on the floor in seconds, her legs over his shoulders and he was slipping inside her in one quick motion, closing his eyes as he felt how tight and hot and wet she was.

“You okay?” he asked her as he adjusted his hips slightly. He waited till she nodded, her eyes, almost pure green in this light, looking at him in a way he had never seen before. Loving, he might have called it if it was anyone else but her. It almost made him come right then. 

Instead he began moving, slowly at first, using her gasps and moans as a guide, and then they found a rhythm, picking up the pace and working off of each other, just as they did in the field and when they sparred. Her fingers carded through his hair and his lips found her breast, and her mutterings turned from English to Russian and he knew she was close.

He forced a hand between their bodies, found her clit and began to rub, holding himself back just a little bit longer, a tiny bit longer …. And then his thumbnail scraped over her delicate skin and she was shuddering under him and that was all it took for him to follow suit.

He held her in his arms after it was over, her breasts pressed to his chest, her hair spread around her head like a fiery halo. He knew what she had said before they started, but he was afraid to let go, afraid to have her slip away …

“Shhhh,” she whispered into his ear. “I can hear you thinking. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Go to sleep.”

He eventually did, too sated and exhausted to fight anymore.

He woke in the morning to red hair in his mouth and drool on his chest. Steve smiled and tightened his arms around her. He could hear the sounds of footsteps in the hall, but for once, he didn’t care. Training could wait.


End file.
